


Intro to Separation

by recollection



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, Clone Abed, Post geothermal escapism, there's the barest of dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recollection/pseuds/recollection
Summary: Abed was aware that despite having cloned himself, the weight of the situation would eventually hit him. He also knew that the more he put off feeling his emotions would only result in disaster. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt any less.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Intro to Separation

**Author's Note:**

> I'm upset that we never really got to see Abed deal with Troy leaving post Geothermal Escapism and I wanted to explore that. And thank you to jealous-kippen on tumblr for helping me figure out how to end this. 
> 
> Also I basically listened to Bruise by With Confidence and Talking to Myself by Gatlin on repeat while writing this, and they fit the theme.

The minute he and Annie had stepped into what was now solely their apartment (the realisation of which threatened to suffocate him), he’d excused himself to the blanket fort. The edges of his clone self had already begun to crack with the cold absence of his other half, and he didn’t need any more reminders. He’d crawled under the covers, shoes and all, and let himself stare at the ceiling. It didn’t contain any answers like he’d hoped, not that he knew what questions needed asking. 

All he knew was that he needed his best friend here. 

Earlier that day, even leading back as far as the conditions on which Troy had to complete to receive his bequeathments, some part of him had begged himself to be selfish just one more time, just long enough for Troy to stay, for Troy to never leave him. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t ask Troy to sacrifice this amazing opportunity just because Abed didn’t know if he could survive without him. He couldn’t betray his best friend like that… Not even when it killed him to know that had Abed just asked, Troy would’ve given it up, all of it, for him.

Troy had left his side only hours prior, but that didn’t make the pain any easier. In fact, it seemed to amplify it.

In the early hours of the morning, after the ceiling relentlessly taunted him with reminders of all the nights he thought about crossing the hall and laying his soul bare to Troy and how he’d never have that chance again, Abed sneaks out across the lounge and into Troy’s room. 

It feels bare; empty, a mirror to Abed. There’s an absence of life in the room, despite Troy’s belongings exactly where he’d left them. A part of Abed wishes Troy had packed everything away, removed everything that could be a reminder, but he’s pretty sure that would be much worse. He wouldn’t recover. He doesn’t know if he will now. 

It’s all too much, being there in his room, and he turns, ready to abandon this room perhaps forever when a flash of white draws his eyes back. There, resting against the pillows, folded haphazardly is a piece of paper. Curiosity wins out and he takes a guarded step closer. One word is scrawled across the front, a simple _ABED_. His hand is reaching for it before he can even begin to process it, can even begin to wonder what it would say, and he recoils. He spins around and speeds from the room, his breathing heavy. 

He can’t do this. Not now. Not with the loss of Troy haunting him so. 

Though, as he rounds the corner, he’s struck by the sight of Troy’s mug. It’s there on the bench where he’d left it, a trail of dried coffee running down the side from when Abed had made him laugh so hard with a stupid joke he can’t even recall. Something about it sitting there provides him with the sense that Troy’s presence still lingers, as though he might come through the door at any moment. Abed welcomes the idea with open arms, and breathes deeply, the first since Troy had left that hasn’t been clouded with anguish. 

He heads into the bathroom, forgoing turning the light on. The pipes creak in protest as he starts the shower, and when he catches sight of Troy’s _Spiderman_ body wash in the dim light, it all comes crashing down. He remembers it like it was yesterday, the way Troy had entered their apartment one afternoon, valiantly displaying the bottle like it was a 1st place trophy, and bearing a grin that now left an ache deep in his chest. 

Absently, he steps under the stream, only realising he’s still in his clothes when they’re drenched and begin to weigh him down. He strips listlessly and forces himself to run the bar of soap over his frozen limbs. 

He doesn’t know how or why, but he finds himself back in Troy’s room, one of his sweaters wrapping him in the familiar scent of laundry detergent and something he can only describe as something wholly and entirely Troy. And before he can weigh the consequences, he’s crawling under the covers, engulfing his senses with _Troy Troy Troy._

The paper he’d spied earlier crinkles lightly from the movement. He extends his arm until it comes into contact. The curtains are still open, and the light streaming in from the street provides just enough visibility for him to make out the words. 

_Abed, I miss you !!! I miss you so much already and I haven’t even left. You’re only in the other room right now, helping Annie make me food for my trip to the ocean. Although, by the time you’re reading this, I’ll already be on my journey. I don’t know how long it’ll be til you read this but I hope it isn’t too long._

_I don’t want this letter to be too long because I’ll probably start listing all the things I’ll miss, like watching Inspector Spacetime with you_

  * _Helping you plan your next amazing movie_


  * _Planning our next EPIC prank on the study group_


  * _Listening to you talk about how great Cougar Town is_


  * _Talking with you_


  * _Watching movies with you_


  * _The way you always seem to know what I’m thinking_


  * _You_



_Okay I should probably stop now and just say that I’m gonna miss you like crazy. Seriously, I’m gonna miss you more than anyone’s ever missed anyone EVER, okay?_

_I promise to come home as soon as I can, and no matter what happens, whether it takes longer than I think it will (because the world is actually SO BIG it’s insane) or whether you move places because a big movie person discovers how incredibly talented you are, I will always come home to you._

The _to you_ echoes around his skull, bouncing on every single button in his brain that controls his emotions. The room, the sweater, the letter, the very scent of Troy… It’s all too much. Like a spacesuit with a tear, the oxygen is stripped from his lungs. He can’t breathe. He’s immobilized, defenceless against the onslaught of emotions gripping his throat tight. 

He scrambles into a seated position, wringing his hands as he desperately racks his brain on how to repair his clone self. Make it indestructible so not a solitary drop of emotion can seep through again. 

Somewhere between mentally reconstructing his armour and refusing to allow himself to think about the letter, unconsciousness takes hold and draws him into a restless sleep, the paper clasped in his hand. 

When he wakes, he can hear Annie moving about in the kitchen and the light bustle of others, which Abed deduces is the study group no doubt providing their love and support. 

He figures it’s just after midday, if the angle of the sun trickling in is anything to go by, and confirms it with a glance at his watch. His eyes flit about the room, reacquainting himself with all the trinkets Troy had collected over the years. A _LEGO Batman_ set they’d constructed together, only for Troy to subsequently drop when he went to show Anniw. The _InSpecTiCon_ lanyards from the year before. Movie tickets from the numerous outings they went on. Troy’s favourite photo of the two of them, which featured them asleep, cuddled up on the couch when they were 23 hours into an _Inspector Spacetime_ marathon. It was Abed’s favourite too, not that he’d ever admitted that to anyone. 

A chill starts to edge down his spine as he’s once again reminded he won’t experience that again. (He’d run the calculations already, and the chances of Troy returning to him and everything remaining the same were slim. A 0.58%, to be exact.) He pulls the doona tighter around him, needing Troy’s warmth to envelop him now more than ever. 

The smell of pancakes wafts through the door, and despite his lack of desire to be around anyone right now, hunger tugs messily at him, propelling him forward. He hauls himself from the mattress and eases the sleeves of Troy’s sweater over his fingers, clutching at the material akin to a scared child as he creeps from his refuge. 

Jeff is the one to spot him first, a terribly hidden look of concern painting his features. He starts to rise from his seats then stills, hovering as though unsure on whether Abed is more in need of a hug or space. A subtle shake of Abed’s head sends him back to the chair and he settles on an awkward wave. 

Before Abed can process it, Britta’s darted over, pulling him into a hug that’s teeming with condolences and utterances of how much she misses Troy but how she can’t possibly imagine how he feels, which he finds a little odd given that Troy didn’t die. He’s just… gone. He allows her to continue holding him though, because the embrace is admittedly comforting and is something he hadn’t realised he’d been craving. 

Shirley takes over the embrace, whispering soothing words in his ear. There’s sadness evident in her voice and whether it’s because she misses Troy or if it’s for Abed, he isn’t sure. 

The sound of dishes clinking in the sink attracts his attention towards the kitchen, and he takes in the stacks of pancakes atop the bench, one plate decorated with his favourite toppings. But something’s missing. Something that was there just twelve hours prior. 

Dread slivers to every inch of his being, and feverishly, he scans every surface before zeroing in on the mug in Annie’s hand. He watches in anguish as she dunks Troy’s mug carelessly in the water, suds dripping off the edges as she chats idly with Britta. 

A whine erupts from his throat without warning, startling even himself, as he races to try and preserve the last of Troy’s presence. The soapy water scalds his hands as he reaches into the sink, pulling back to cradle the cup to his chest, eyes wide, breathing frantic as he takes in the weight of four eyes upon him. 

Annie covers her mouth in horror, her eyes widening with the realisation of what she’d just done. She takes a step in Abed’s direction with an outstretched arm, no doubt wanting to mend the situation, but he recoils, spinning on the spot and fleeing directly to Troy’s room. 

He clambers onto the bed, his back pressed firmly against the wall, his hold on the mug sending aches along his fingers. He releases it just slightly, tracing the curves with his left index finger, slipping every so often from the soapy residue. His heart sinks as he takes in the glistening surface. There’s no evidence that Troy had ever used this cup. His grip tightens as the beaming faces of the _Troy & Abed in the Morning _logo stare back at him. 

He knows it’s not Annie’s fault. Of course he knows that! How could she have possibly known, let alone understood, the weight and importance of the mug sitting there on the bench? But, it turns out that despite Abed’s efforts when repairing it, the clone suit isn’t equipped to handle the levels of indignation and betrayal coursing through him. 

There’s a gentle knock on the door, and whether it’s been one minute or twenty, Abed isn’t sure. When there’s no response, Annie peeks her head through, regret painting her features. He doesn’t look up, his eyes trained on the mug he twists in his hands. She takes a step in, the door clicking behind her as she moves closer, fervently scanning his face for warning signs. Cautiously, she perches herself on the edge of the mattress. Her mouth’s open like she wants to say something but is utterly terrified of the wrong thing coming out. Her eyebrows furrow and her lip quivers just slightly. 

It’s not the same, Abed finds. They can’t read each other’s minds the way he and Troy could. But it’s okay, because while they cannot communicate telepathically, they know each other. And he knows deep down that Annie’s trying her best to be there for him in a way he needs, so he pats the empty space beside him. 

Her head raises and she stares at the spot unsure, only moving once he nods reassuringly at her. When she takes the seat beside him, he can feel the tension radiating off of her from where their sides are pressed firmly against each other. He reaches over, taking her hand in his and rests them against his lap. He uses his other hand to cradle the mug against his chest. 

Annie rubs her thumb in a calming pattern over the soft skin of Abed’s hand, a substitute for the words he knows she wants to say. He interlocks their fingers and gives her a tender squeeze, looking up at her as he says, “I know you miss him too.”

“So much.” A shuddering sigh escapes her lips and tears glisten in her eyes. She gives him a bittersweet smile and squeezes his hand, placing her other over his. “But not as much as you. Not the way you do.”

Overwhelmed by the intensity of the emotions flowing through him, he simply nods, returning his gaze to his lap. He draws the mug away from his chest and stares down at Troy’s face on the logo, the deep-seated ache in his chest becoming prominent again. 

_Funny,_ he thinks, _how heavy and overwhelming the feeling of emptiness is._

But with Annie’s hand in his, he knows he has a grip on reality, and more importantly, one on his sanity. And maybe, with help from the others, he won’t need to rely solely the clone suit to deal with Troy’s absence. He won’t have to do this alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @ 2x06


End file.
